


Pillow fort

by vanishing_apples



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone is an asshole brat except Lucifer, Fluff, Luci triplets, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 13:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_apples/pseuds/vanishing_apples
Summary: In which Lucilius is deprived of both his domain and favourite brother, but things don't turn out so bad.





	Pillow fort

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell…”

Lucifer gives Lucilius’ side a big yawn, the smoke of grogginess already clinging to his eyelids. The amber glow of their night light gilds the blankets’ velvety surfaces - stretched and grafted together at the corners to form a cubical enclosure around them - with a luxurious, orange sheen. Outside their bedroom, winter dusts white over the dark landscape. Snow-encrusted winds howl, their chill seeping through curtained windows to permeate the room; but Lucifer and Lucilius’ pillow fort barricades it from the warmth within.

Snuggly tucked under thick down covers, Lucifer is on the brink of sleep with his brother’s steady droning giving him the final, encouraging nudges. 

“Already tired, Lucifer?” - Careful to maintain his hushed tone, Lucilius gaze leaves the pages of the opened encyclopaedia volume to fall on Lucifer.

“Hmm… I’m alright.” - Incapable of lying, Lucifer shakes his head in place of a verbal denial. - “I would like to sleep when you do, Lucilius…”

A soft sigh spills from Lucilius’ lips. His hand settles on Lucifer’s fluffy head to give it some gentle ruffling. 

“You don’t have to wait for me. Neither of us have anything to gain from you burdening yourself.”

“But…” 

Lucilius is always right, always rational, the smartest of the triplets. While Lucifer usually has only admiration for his second brother’s intellect, he still can’t help but find Lucilius’ reasoning capability exceedingly, frustratingly difficult to argue against at times. It does help to also be a quick learner who can reap from past experiences, however. 

“...Can you read me the chapter on Rayleigh scattering too?”

Lucilius snorts. He knows that Lucifer knows he can easily deduce the motive behind this proposal: that Lucifer is hoping to buy time until Lucilius grows sleepy himself. He would bluntly deny him that satisfaction, were Lucifer just any other person. But his younger brother’s hand bunching up his pajamas at the hip in desperation prompts Lucilius to abandon the idea. 

“Alright.”

Lucifer’s sky blue eyes light up with hope, a satisfied smile just short of tugging at his lips. 

“But just this chapter.”

And the smile has already withered. Lucilius has to consciously contain his laughter. Though not one to strongly emote, poor little Lucifer is still easy to read to a painful degree. 

“Don’t fret. I’ll follow shortly after you have fallen asleep.”

“Okay…” - Lucifer’s eyes droop, presumably from equal parts grogginess and disappointment. The gesture earns him more good-humoured hair ruffling.

“Good. We ought to sleep early, anyway, before that idiot-”

Their bedroom door rattles with sharp, indiscreet knocks. Lucilius feels about ready to injure whoever is on the other side of it, and thanks to intuition, he knows exactly who. 

“Luciiiiilius! Lucifeeeer! Can I come in!?” - The idiot in question practically bellows.

“NO. F-” - Timely remembering not to swear in front of Lucifer, Lucilius yells back. “Bugger off, you clown! You woke up Lucifer!”

“But it’s my bedroom, too! Why am I never allowed to join you guys in pillow forts?” - Lucio whines.

“We can’t have Lucifer catch your stupidity, that’s why.” 

Lucifer meekly tries to come to Lucio’s defense.

“L-Lucilius… It is quite cold out, so maybe we should…” 

“No. Idiots can’t catch colds.” - Lucilius groans as he tucks Lucifer tighter into his puffy cocoon of down blankets. - “That halfwit can do without your worrying over him.”

“You’re mean, Lucilius! What if Sandalphon catches a cold, then!?” 

“Sandalphon is here!?”

Lucilius watches in horror as his efforts are flung off Lucifer’s body, his younger brother fully alert at the mere mention of the obnoxious brat’s name. He can just _feel_ Lucio’s destable, smug little grin on the other side of that door, and the thought of it alone makes his skin crawl.

“Yes! His mom picked me up from practice along with Belial but now they’re stranded at our place because, you know… blizzard. We’ve got snacks!”

Lucifer is never one to make outward demands, but the effect of his large, pleading eyes proves to be tremendously more devastating. Against the swelling mass of displeasure in his stomach, Lucilius resigns.

“...Fine.”

“Yay!” - Lucio cheers.

Within seconds, the pillow fort has become suffocatingly crowded for Lucilius with the addition of Lucio and Sandalphon. Lucifer is ecstatic, however, to have the little brown-haired boy cozying up in his arms and the blankets Lucilius wrapped around him earlier now enveloping them both. 

“Sandalphon, are you still cold?” - Checking to ensure Sandalphon’s cheeks and nose are no longer red, Lucifer proceeds to warm up his hands by cupping them in his own. 

Sandalphon shakes his head and wordlessly insists on keeping his hands free. Free to shield Lucifer behind his back, that is. Stubborn and selectively confrontational, the little boy shuffles deeper into the warmth of Lucifer’s embrace if only to better quarantine him from his own older brother. His seven-year-old mind has already entertained one too many fantasies of one day sweeping Lucifer off his feet and finally bringing him far, far away from the ill-tempered menace that is Lucilius. For now, with his small hands, Sandalphon vows to take hold of every chance to protect Lucifer he can get. At the moment, that translates to making a Lucifer-protection barrier out of his own body and many well-stuffed pillows.

Lucilius’ simmering anger spills over in a frigid glare aimed at Sandalphon, aggravated by the brat purposefully wedging his puny body between Lucifer and himself. Lucio’s attempt at diffusing the tension, tainted by uncurbed joy at finally being allowed into the pillow fort, only further sours his mood.

“So you got snacks for everyone, Sandalphon?” - Lucio chimes, swaddling the irate Lucilius in another blanket before pulling his bundled-up brother into his chest as if to physically contain his anger.

Sandalphon proceeds to empty out the convenience store plastic bag he has brought in.

“Mini cream puffs for Lucio, baked caramel custard for me, mont blanc for Lucifer, and beef jerky… huh?”

He counts and recounts the scattered packets, lips pursed in frustration as he searches for the missing beef jerky. Sandalphon remembers begrudgingly knocking the packet into his mother’s basket when asked to pick out snacks at the convenience store. His stupid bully of an older brother even teased him for it. And yet, it has disappeared at some point during one short car ride. 

Lucifer quickly recognises the issue.

“It’s alright, Sandalphon. Lucilius can have the mont blanc.”

“Or, or half of my cream puffs!” - Lucio, too, is quick to catch on when it comes to Lucilius. Unwilling as he may be to part with his treats, he knows better than to let temptation get the better of the good sense to appease a very soon to be upset younger brother. But despite his understanding, no amount of offered snacks or physical attention can quell Lucilius’ mounting indignation. 

It erupts. 

“I expected no less from the incompetence of a stunted midget.” - Lucilius scoffs.

“What…?” - Vaguely comprehending that he’s just been insulted, Sandalphon’s jaw hangs open as he struggles to process Lucilius’ vocabulary. 

“Brother, don’t be mean!” - Cries Lucifer. - “Sandalphon may be a little small for his age but he-”

“Oh, I wasn’t referring to his puny size, though it is indicative of just how severe his arrested development is. Predictably, the runt’s memory would fail to retain the shortest of shopping lists.”

Were it not for Lucifer holding him back, Sandalphon would surely launch himself at Lucilius. Likewise, Lucio’s arms prevent Lucilius from retaliating in the same manner. Lucilius might have the most roundabout ways of making his point, but the gist of it is always the same: He has never had anything to say to Sandalphon but abusive remarks on his small size and supposed stupidity. That much, the younger boy can perfectly understand and take offense to. 

“Take that back, you scum!!” - Yells Sandalphon, limbs flailing out of Lucifer’s embrace.

“And what if I don’t?” - Lucilius spits cold contempt through his teeth. - “What exactly do I have to fear from a half-pint, retarded, useless little shrimp?”

“GO TO HELL, C*NT.”

Sandalphon’s bark stills to a chilling silence. The sudden halt in Lucilius’ squirming alarms Lucio, whose face drains of colour upon the realisation of what is to ensue.

No one utters profanity in front of Lucifer, not when Lucilius is present and vigilantly defending his favourite brother’s education. Not even adults have escaped Lucilius’ wrath for committing the cardinal sin. More than a few relatives and family friends have exited their home to find their vehicles’ tires slashed or windscreen cracked.

“Oh no…” - In futility, Lucio tries to lock his brother’s arms in place by tightening his hold. 

That results in a foot swung at Sandalphon’s head, narrowly dodged thanks to Lucifer’s reflex. But once Sandalphon registers the attempted assault, the triplets’ oldest and youngest can do little to stop all hell from breaking loose. 

Lucilius frees himself by biting Lucio’s hand, while tiny Sandalphon easily slips out of Lucifer’s arms in his brief moment of bewilderment. Almost immediately, the fort trembles with the force of flung pillows, ripped bedding and general violence erupting in its bowels. 

“Both of you, stop it!!” - Lucio attempts in vain to navigate the chaos and put at least one of the feuding boys back under control. 

“Monster!! Egg-headed, noodle-armed freak!!” - Sandalphon shrieks with each blind punch.

“ _You’re_ the freak of nature!! Retarded gremlin!! Go to hell and stop being a bad influence on Lucifer if you really love him so much!” - Verbally _and_ physically, Lucilius retaliates.

“ _YOU’RE_ THE ONE LUCIFER DOESN’T NEED!!”

The squabble persists for a good ten seconds more, then comes to an abrupt stop with Lucilius attempting to use his entire body weight to smother Sandalphon under a pillow. Naturally, both Lucilius and the pillow land on Lucifer instead. 

“Lucifer!!” - Lucio gasps and Sandalphon screams, the latter already beginning to tear up at his own rescue.

Lucilius leans against Lucifer, frozen in horrific realisation. His brother’s stern gaze only widens the crater left by the immediate blow of guilt to his stomach. 

“Lucilius, please stop…” 

Lucifer’s heartfelt plea reaches Lucilius’ ears as disappointment, morphed by the spectacle of the former gathering Sandalphon back into his arms. Guilt replaced by disgust and some other ugly, corrosive emotion he can’t quite identify, Lucilius pulls his battered body out of bed with gritted teeth, but not without yanking all the covers previously shared with Lucio off his older brother first. 

“Lucilius!”

Ignoring Lucio’s voice and Sandalphon sobbing broken apologies into Lucifer’s chest, Lucilius leaves, making sure to slam the door as loudly as he could on his way out. The gesture isn’t so much out of rage. No. Aggression all but evaporated from his system the moment his eyes met Lucifer’s. It is more a physical attempt to shut out the accursed sight of Lucifer nursing Sandalphon’s bruises that incidentally brushed the corner of his eye.

\---

The house is frightfully quiet, with the clamour effectively contained within his shared bedroom and every other space insulated from the blizzard’s wailing outside. Most likely, all the adults have gone to sleep, including Sandalphon’s mother and Belial who presumably lodge in one of their free rooms.

Lucilius doesn’t really have an idea of where to go, but in a listless stupor, his feet bring him downstairs to the living room. He didn’t think too hard initially about his arriving at the unwitting destination, but Lucilius now figures that the only light source - the television - must have drawn him here. 

The screen’s harsh luminosity coats the room in a sullen, blue tint whose intensity infrequently oscillates. Such a light source actually makes the space feels colder, the chill seeping through the blankets Lucilius has draped over his head and dragged in a long train behind him. 

Resentment flares up in his chest anew, this time prompted by the bitter cold. The big, misshapen heap of blankets strategically placed on the sofa directly opposite of the television only fuels his anger. Whoever is responsible for this poor excuse of a decoy will pay for even entertaining the idea that he might be fooled. 

“Come out, rat. I know you’re here.” - Lucilius grumbles.

His beckoning incites swift response. Darkness cloaks Lucilius’ vision as an additional stretch of fabric descends on his head. Then comes another, and another, until neither the cold nor the television’s blue light can reach him. Lucilus stands still, cocooned in warmth and a paradoxical sense of safety. Then a pair of arms close around his body, accompanied by mischievous giggles.

“Aw, you got me.” - Belial takes pleasure peeling off each layer of blanket, just enough so Lucilius’ endeared, surly face falls into view. It almost feels like ripping ‘preview holes’ into the present wrappings on Christmas Eve at his own place: the advanced information and expectation of Sandalphon’s distress simply delightful. - “As expected from this household’s celebrated wunderkind. Cilius sees all and knows all.”

Lucilius huffs, momentarily amused by Belial’s deliberate irony in word choice. ‘Celebrated’, he said. Maybe he will finally be, the day he disappears from his family’s sight forever, that is. 

Belial frowns as Lucilius’ short-lived joy is snuffed out by some unvoiced strand of rumination he can’t read. 

“Come on, did my rascal of a little brother bully you that badly?”

“I don’t get _bullied_ , you fool.” - Lucilius snaps back, defensive. 

“Yes, yes. You’re right. Or else I wouldn’t dare expect to have a sibling anymore, come morning.”

Lucilius feels too drained to take grave offense to just how easily Belial scoops him up. Like Lucio and every other athletic brat, Sandalphon’s older brother is but another needlessly muscular, hulking oaf. Some part deep within him acknowledges that just maybe, Belial is a little less of an oaf than the rest of them. He’s craftier, more prone to mischief but much less prone to reaping punishment than the average troublemaker. There is something about Belial’s unscrupulous nature that makes him oddly trustworthy to Lucilius. That, and the inexplicable fondness he seems to have towards him.

Settling on the sofa and the cocooned Lucilius on top of himself, Belial pulls more blankets from the decoy heap over them before reaching for the controller.

“So what will it be? Formula racing? Documentaries? We can bust out those slasher DVDs we’re not allowed to watch unsupervised, if you’re in the mood for those.”

With a grudging humph, Lucilius turns his back towards the screen, burying his face into the nook formed by Belial’s side and the sofa’s cushion. Belial chokes back laughter, but nonetheless switches off the television to allow darkness’ comfort to fold over them both. 

“Would you fancy some cuddles, instead? Like in a pillow fort, perhaps. Lucio was whining about pillow forts on our way back. I assume you’re sulking because Sandy got you kicked out of the one you just built- ow! Ow!”

Lucilius pinches the flesh of Belial’s side with decisive, spite-fueled force. 

“Shut up. No cuddles.”

Belial sighs, more spellbound than the least bit exasperated. 

“Okay~. You’re probably too prickly for cuddles, anyway.”

‘Too prickly’ is one mockingly infantile way of putting it. Lucilius is more than self-aware of his own disagreeable disposition, and for his entire decade of being alive never once has he been apologetic for it. 

He’s content with solitude, perfectly, in fact. Lucilius tolerates next to none while asking tolerance from no one. Only the opinion of Lucifer - his sole intellectual equal - matters. Lucifer’s attachment to him is understandable, easily digestible because it can be rationalised. In the irrationality of Lucio’s unconditional affections or their parents’ begrudging yet enduring acceptance of his presence, Lucilius can find no comfort. And yet, even the only bond which brings him solace seems to be fraying.

If Lucifer’s boundless benevolence cannot bear him, maybe he truly is too flawed, too detestable to be worthy of love.

The warmth from Belial’s breath tickles Lucilius’ head just as his shoulders begin to tremble.

“Nothing wrong with being prickly, though.” - Rubbing Lucilius’ back, Belial’s words are laced with chuckles. - “It’s fine to be no sugar and all spice. Heck, you hear people complain about too much sugar all the time these days, but when has anyone said the same about spices? You wouldn’t be my cute Cilius otherwise.”

“...Not yours. Not anyone’s.” - Lucilius mumbles. 

“Heheh, sure. Doesn’t stop me from sticking with you.”

“Don’t need it. You’re not Lucifer.”

“Does it matter?” - Belial fakes an exaggerated noise of disappointment before burying his nose into Lucilius’ hair. - “Doesn’t matter if you don’t appreciate it, or if the whole world turns against you for your prickly ways. You’ll always be my one and only, adorable, unbeatable genius worthy of a thousand pillow forts.”

Lucilius’ eyes grow warm. Must be the result of eyestrain from that stupid blue light earlier. He wants to believe himself incapable of frivolous self-pity. Fortunately, he’s also too tired to dwell on the unwanted emotion for much longer. 

Sensing Lucilius’ slowed breathing, burdened by the overdue arrival of sleep, Belial tucks the blankets further underneath them.

“Aw, guess it’s bedtime. I was hoping we could stay awake together a little longer.”

“For what?” - Lucilius yawns, eyelids growing heavy.

With a devious grin he’s glad Lucilius can’t see, Belial replies.

“Got some beef jerky I thought you’d like to share.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I just attempted a retelling of 000's plot (kind of) from Lucilius' POV, in weird modern AU language and no fatal stakes involved. Thank you for reading!


End file.
